


There's a boy who sits opposite me

by Mira_A_Henss



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Love, Poetry, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24843301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mira_A_Henss/pseuds/Mira_A_Henss
Summary: Just a Jeronica poem...
Relationships: Archie Andrews & Veronica Lodge, Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper & Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Jughead Jones & Veronica Lodge, Jughead Jones/Veronica Lodge
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	There's a boy who sits opposite me

There's a boy who sits opposite me,  
In the booth of an old diner.  
And he looks ethereal,   
Under the bright neon lights. 

He holds his girlfriend's hand,  
And laughs at my boyfriend's jokes,  
And looks only at me.  
And I am a little in love with him.

I tell him this and he tells me that it's wrong,  
Then tells me that he's a little in love with me too.

We have a twisted kind of love,  
But it's okay,  
Because it's a twisted kind of town.

He shares my hair color,   
My taste in films,   
My crude sense of humor,   
My love of chocolate milkshakes,   
And my ability to ruin everything I touch.   
We share everything with each other,   
And each other with nothing.

In the booth, we are all petty fights,   
And cutting remarks,   
And thinly veiled insults. 

And outside of it, we are whispered compliments,   
And bright smiles,   
And tender gazes. 

He calls me princess,   
And I think he first meant it as an insult.  
I don't remember when it turned into an form of endearment. 

With him, there are no masks,  
No roles to play,  
And no scripts to follow.  
There are no secrets between us,   
Except us.

I show him my darkness and he shows me his,  
I tell him my secrets and he keeps them,   
I whisper to him my dreams and he smiles at them.   
With him, there is no hesitation, no doubt and no fear.

He lent me his denim jackets before,   
And now lends me his leather ones.   
And I like that even when the jackets change,   
Me wearing them to sleep never changes. 

He waxes poetry about me and gives his girlfriend a copy.   
She tells me about it,   
And I pretend to be happy for her.

She comes over and talks about how perfect he is,   
And my eyes trail to the bottom drawer of my dresser,   
Where I have his flannel hidden beside our stack of love letters. 

He barely acknowledges me in hallways.  
Throws me the tiniest of smiles when he's feeling particularly rebellious.   
And I do not mind it much,  
For I'd rather be his secret than someone else's announcement. 

There's a moment in the woods -   
The four of us gathered around a table,   
Poisoned chalices replacing our usual milkshakes,   
In fancy clothes that somehow fit us perfectly,   
Playing a game with no chance of survival.   
And I'm almost tempted to laugh.   
My boyfriend's silent and   
His eyes meet mine across the table,   
Shining with desperation and sorrow and fear,  
And he gives me a tiny nod just as I shake my head.   
His girlfriend is quicker though,   
She plays it with me,   
And I try to trade my life for hers.   
We go back to the booth that night,   
And we are all shaking and crying and laughing,   
And he's only looking at me. 

There's another moment in the woods -   
The four of us gathered in a clearing.   
Red solo cups replacing our usual milkshakes,   
This time we are wearing our normal clothes,   
Still playing a game with no chance of survival.   
And I'm almost tempted to cry.   
My boyfriend's shouting and  
His eyes meet mine across the distance,   
Shining with shock and sorrow and fear,  
And he gives me a tiny nod just as I shake my head.   
His girlfriend is staring at the rock in her hand,  
And we patch him up somehow,  
And watch him leave in an ambulance,   
And he's only looking at me. 

There's a boy who sits opposite me,   
In a booth of an old diner.   
And he says that he'll never tire,   
Of seeing me against the bright neon lights. 

He has an arm around his girlfriend's shoulder,   
And smiles at my boyfriend's jokes,   
And tangles my legs with his, underneath the table. 

I love everyone in the booth,  
But I am in love only with him.  
And he would die for everyone in the booth,  
But he would live only for me.

We have a twisted kind of love,  
But it's okay,  
Because it's a twisted kind of story.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys. Hope you liked it. Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


End file.
